


A Time to Be Born

by Seolfer_Rosa



Category: Highlander: The Raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-31
Updated: 2003-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seolfer_Rosa/pseuds/Seolfer_Rosa
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atHL Raven's Nest. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onHL Raven's Nest's collection profile.





	1. A Time to Be Born: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HL Raven's Nest](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HL_Raven%27s_Nest). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HL Raven's Nest's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hlravensnest/profile).

A Time to Be Born Pt. 1 by Gail B.

_A Time to Be Born_   
Part 1 

By Gail B. 

**DISCLAIMER:** The characters of Nick Wolfe, Amanda, and Father Liam Riley all belong to Davis/Panzer, as well as the opening scene. I’m just borrowing them for a little while. Laura Kessler and Alejandro de los Reyes are mine, however, so if you want to play with them, please ask first. 

* * *

_Paris, 1999_

One second, nothing. 

The next, his eyes snap open at the exact same instant he feels his whole body convulsing. The rush of air into his lungs comes so suddenly and so rapidly that he is afraid they’ll explode. What the hell happened? 

Nick sits up and takes a couple more deep, yet even, breaths that he hopes won’t overstrain his lungs’ working capacity. The last thing he can remember is his throat constricting so tightly that any attempts to inhale or exhale would result in severe bouts of choking. At the time, he believed his lungs were in no better shape. 

But that doesn’t make sense. Vital organs do not spontaneously function normally once permanently damaged. 

In piecemeal fashion, memories continue pricking Nick’s consciousness. Poison. Of course. Peyton’s little green ball dissipated not three feet away from him, releasing a gas that permeated every part of his body, and that would have killed him within twenty-four hours. 

That _should_ have killed him. 

Until he felt the blunt pressure of something against his gut. Then, a woman’s voice saying she wanted him to forgive her? For what? 

“For this,” she said. 

That’s when he heard, from some seemingly far off place, the click of a trigger. Then, a pain so blinding that he must have blacked out instantly. 

Then nothing. 

Until his eyes snap open. 

Hesitantly, Nick examines his surroundings. An uncertain glance at his stomach yields no evidence of an injury, yet he still experiences some physical pain. He also doesn’t fail to notice the hole in his shirt, a hole just the right size for a bullet to pass through. And the small amount of blood surrounding the hole, and more blood on his skin. 

He notices that each exhale releases a tiny cloud into the cold air, a sure sign that he is, indeed, breathing on his own. He can feel the chill in the air, and sense the tangible presence of another nearby. Someone is half supporting, half cradling him in her lap. He looks up at her. 

“You’re not going to die,” she tells him, her tone as serious as her face is solemn. “You’re going to live.” 

Nick doesn’t like the sound of this. 

“You’re Immortal.” 

His eyes tear themselves away from Amanda’s face, focusing for one brief moment on where his wound was, where it still should have been. For some reason, one which he can’t admit to himself, Nick suddenly can’t look at the evidence. He concentrates on a vague spot somewhere on the warehouse’s high ceiling. 

* * *

A gift. She calls it a gift! 

“What kind of gift is this?” Nick demands silently. An eternity of sights, sounds, and pleasures as long as he finds it in himself to whack the head off any Immortal who crosses his path. “Any _other_ Immortal,” he corrects himself. Might as well get used to being one. 

He had long ago taught himself the value of pragmatism, and the blow of Amanda shooting herself, only to come back to life in his arms, called that pragmatism into question. But why shoot him in the same way? He was prepared to face death; it had been part of his life since he became a cop. Did she want it to be part of his life forever? 

An unsettling notion, that. Nick tries to call up his pragmatism once again. 

He finds his feet steering themselves toward Father Liam’s church. The same man who once asked him what he’d do if he became Immortal. It comes to Nick at that moment that Father Liam had kept this secret from him, as well. Not that he blames the priest for his silence. Nick suspects that the father _wanted_ to tell him. 

Something hits him as soon as he reaches the main doors of the church. A split second of blinding pain, followed by an intense awareness. Nick recognizes it as the same sensation he felt when he came back to life in the warehouse. Instinct tells him that another Immortal is nearby. Father Liam, no doubt. 

He enters, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the church’s sole occupant, a blonde woman kneeling before a row of candles, her back to him. Her elbows rest on the table of candles in an oddly familiar fashion, and her hands are clasped in silent prayer. Her hair, just past her shoulders, is held back from her face by a simple headband. Nick cannot see her face, but he guesses that she seems no older than her early or mid-twenties. Where had he seen her before? 

He approaches her, and is almost at her side when she stands and turns to face him, her right hand reaching out. Her face curiously devoid of expression, she says, “Welcome aboard, Detective Wolfe.” 

Nick now puts a name to her . . . 

* * *

_Torago, 1997_

Nick sat at his desk, finishing up the report on the Heyward kidnapping. What a mess that was! A man kidnaps his own wife and hides her from the rest of her family, all the while making phony ransom demands by way of a generic E-mail address. It was enough to make Nick pull his hair out. 

Yet he promised Claudia that he’d tie up the loose ends, so that she could spend time with her kids. Eric just had his braces put on, and was feeling down because of it. Nick remembered that feeling. 

An hour or so later, he finally got ready to close the file, literally and figuratively, when Bannen called him from the doorway leading to the interview rooms. Nick looked up at the portly detective. “What’s up, Bannen?” 

“I need your help in interviewing this girl we brought in. Lewis got called in to the hospital; his wife’s in labor.” 

“Tough case?” Nick asked. 

“You could say that.” 

Nick got up and followed Bannen into the second interview room on the left. A young blonde woman sat at there, her elbows resting on the wooden table, her hands clasped as if in prayer. Her back was to Nick, so he couldn’t see her face. 

Bannen made the introductions. “Detective Nick Wolfe, I’d like you to meet Laura Kessler. Miss Kessler, Detective Wolfe will be helping us get to the bottom of this situation.” 

The woman turned in her seat, and Nick found himself staring into a pair of dark brown eyes. He saw torture there, masked by a strong sense of . . . something he couldn’t put a name to. Surprise? What for? 

Bannen took the chair opposite the woman, and Nick leaned against the wall behind him. The girl’s eyes never left him. In fact, they appeared to be studying him. He chose to ignore the way that made him feel. 

She addressed Bannen. “I told you at the hotel, Detective, I didn’t do it. I wasn’t even there when it happened.” 

“We have a witness who saw you and the victim together on the subway two nights before she died,” Bannen said coldly. “He said you had a sword with you. I’m betting it’s the same one used to cut her head off.” 

Nick couldn’t help recoiling in horror. Someone’s head got cut off? Why? Better yet, how? Nick couldn’t imagine this woman killing anybody, let alone with an exotic weapon. 

He saw her eyes narrow just a bit, as if they were gauging his reaction. If what Bannen said was true . . . 

“You won’t find a drop of blood on the blade,” she announced calmly. Nick did not ignore the certitude in her prediction. 

He moved to the seat next to Bannen. Again her gaze followed him. “So how did this woman lose her head, Miss Kessler?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. “I wasn’t there. Like I told your associate,” her eyes flicked briefly toward Bannen, “I was in my hotel room all night. The clerk at the front desk can confirm that.” 

Nick sensed that Bannen was ready to flip out. “Her name was Marie,” Bannen retorted heatedly. “Marie Fontraud. Are you sure you didn’t know her?” 

The unit secretary poked her head in the door at that moment. “Detective Bannen,” she ventured, “there’s a man outside, who says he saw the whole thing.” 

“Thanks, Louise,” said Bannen, and he and Wolfe got to their feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” Bannen warned Kessler. 

“I won’t,” she replied grimly. 

As he and Bannen left the room, Nick could feel her eyes on him the whole time . . . 

* * *

_Paris, 1999_

Nick shifts his gaze from her eyes to her extended right hand, then back to her face. “I’m not exactly interested in handshakes right now, Miss Kessler,” he tells her. 

Apparently unconcerned, she lets her hand drop. “You can call me Laura, Detective,” she says. “You’re not interrogating me anymore.” 

“I’m not a cop anymore.” 

“Oh.” Still that sense of blasé. “Sorry to hear that.” 

She starts walking past him, and he puts out an arm to stop her. She’s still bold enough to stare him full in the face. “Why don’t you tell me something?” he questions her. “When Bannen and I had you in that interview room two years ago, you couldn’t stop staring at me. Did you know what I was back then?” 

“I knew, but you evidently didn’t.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I wonder what happened to change that.” 

He doesn’t care for her attitude. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got shot.” Nick opens his coat so that she can see the bullet hole in his shirt, and he watches a small smile tease the corners of her mouth. “I really don’t see what’s so amusing about it, _Laura._ ” 

“I don’t find it funny, _Nick,_ ” she states. “More like . . . ironic.” 

“Kind of like me finding you here when I’m looking for someone else.” 

“I suppose.” 

They stare at each other for a long while. Nick gets the distinct impression that she’s studying him again. He doesn’t like the feeling any more now than he did two years before. 

Finally, she says, “By the way, Wolfe, this is holy ground. Even if I were so inclined, I couldn’t take your head here.” She pauses briefly. “And Father Liam’s in the rectory. He’s letting me have some privacy.” 

Kessler continues to amaze him. “Privacy for what?” 

She glances back toward the prayer candles. “For my parents. Today would’ve been their wedding anniversary.” 

The first hint of sincerity from her, and Nick does not get a chance to investigate it further, for Father Liam chose that moment to enter the church. The priest takes one look at Nick and says, “Laura, get him into my office. Now.” 

* * *

Amanda sits alone at the bar, fiddling with the stem of an untouched glass of wine. She’d come back to the Sanctuary in the hope that Nick would find his way to the bar, as well. A tiny part of her even wants to believe that he would have beaten her there, waiting to make up with her. _Like he’d actually be happy I saved his life,_ she reminds herself. 

Still, even if they had never met, his lifestyle was not exactly the safest. He would’ve found himself on the business end of some trigger-happy moron’s weapon eventually. And he would have woken up alone, with no one around to explain what had happened to him. 

Amanda argues this point with herself for several minutes before finally setting down her drink. All this rationalization is giving her a headache. She doesn’t need the wine to make that worse. But, she continues to stare at the glass’s contents as the voice inside her head keeps at it. _Remember, Nick does live upstairs. Sooner or later, he’ll have to come home._

* * *

Father Liam Riley knew Evan Peyton only by reputation, and was aware that Amanda had crossed paths with him once before. As soon as the father learned Peyton was in town, he realized there would be trouble. He never guessed, however, just how much. 

But Peyton’s reputation didn’t include shooting people. Poisons were his specialty. If he chose to go after Nick, it would have been with that, not a gun, especially with Nick’s Immortality. Liam saw the blood-stained hole at once, which was why he ordered Laura to bring the former cop to his office. The conversation he wants to have would best take place out of the earshot of any parishioner who chose that time to come and pray. 

But who had put the bullet there, if not Peyton? He ventures, “You know I have to ask this, Nick, but who shot you?” 

Nick’s answer is short and curt. “She did.” 

“Laura?” inquires the father. 

He meets Nick’s gaze, and catches the barely perceptible shake of Nick’s head. Father Liam offers a quick, silent prayer heavenward and asks, “Why?” 

Answers Nick, “She was trying to save me from the poison Evan Peyton had given me.” 

Father Liam Nods. “Is that what she told you?” 

Nick’s grim reply: “She said that if she hadn’t shot me, the poison would have killed me. Forever.” 

“I see.” 

Laura, from her position near a tall bookcase, asks, “Who are you talking about?” 

Before Father Liam can answer that, Nick says, “Amanda. Amanda Montrose.” 

“Amanda?” 

Nick does not miss the surprise in her voice. “You know her?” 

A silent glare from Father Liam stills the response Laura is about to give. “A little,” she hedges. 

“How did you two meet? Did she kill you, too?” 

“Why don’t we take Nick home, Laura?” he puts in. “It wouldn’t do him any good to be caught without a sword.” Not that Father Liam himself could offer much protection, as he vowed to never carry a blade again. Still, he says to himself, he needs to speak to Amanda. As impulsive as she can be at times, Father Liam never once considered the possibility that she would interfere so directly in the Game by making the deliberate choice to end Nick’s mortal life. In essence, to play God. She must learn the consequences of that choice. 

He thinks it’s worth leaving holy ground to teach her that. 

* * *

The trio decides to head for the Sanctuary on foot, and Nick listens as Father Liam makes casual conversation with Laura. “What have you been doing with yourself these days?” 

“Well, I’m a semester away from earning my Master’s Degree in Ancient History and Art. I’m on my mid-term break right now, so I decided to take the time to see what you and Amanda were up to.” 

“Do you think you’ll go on for your Ph.D.?” asks the father. 

“Someday, maybe, but I’d like to take a little break first. School has been burning me out.” 

Just outside the Sanctuary, all three are stopped in their tracks. Nick realizes he’s already growing accustomed to sensing other Immortals. He follows Father Liam and Laura’s collective gaze down a short alley. Amanda? 

A black-haired man with sallow-toned skin step from the alley’s shadows, brandishing a nasty-looking sword in his right hand. “Laura Kessler,” he intones ominously, the _r’s_ rolling off his tongue. “How glad I am to have found you, _señorita._ ” 

Nick watches as Laura’s own right hand reaches into her coat and produces a long, slender saber. “Alejandro de los Reyes,” she responds in a tone to match the Spaniard’s, “have you come all this way just for me?” 

The two combatants close in, circling one another like two wary alley cats. “Of course I have, _señorita._ Do you think I could forget what happened in New Orleans? 

With that, de los Reyes lashes out with his blade. Laura quickly moves so that the dull edge of her sword meets the sharp edge of his in a resounding clash. She attempts a rapid kick to his midsection, but he backs away before she can make contact. As soon as her foot is back on the ground, Laura delivers a swift swipe with her blade, only to strike thin air yet again. De los Reyes counters with a quick thrust, just catching the edge of Laura’s right coat sleeve and causing her to drop her sword. She manages to neatly dance out of the reach of de los Reyes’ follow-up swing, however, before a new voice breaks into the fight. 

“Alejandro!” 

Nick is startled by the sharpness in Amanda’s voice. His eyes travel to where she is standing, on the opposite end of the alley. The hard glint in her dark eyes clearly matches the one in her exposed blade. 

De los Reyes appears to be surprised, as well, but he remains outwardly calm as he turns to face her. “Amanda,” he warns, “you cannot interfere. That would break Our rules, as you well know.” 

Amanda doesn’t even bother to shrug. “Oh, I have no intention of interfering, Alejandro. Go ahead and kill her. Then I can kill you.” 

Nick watches de los Reyes consider Amanda’s words for a long moment before finally lowering his weapon. The Spaniard approaches Amanda slowly, stopping about a foot and a half away. “No, Amanda, I will let her live. For now.” He leans closer to Amanda, and his next statement is almost too soft for Nick to hear. “You, however, I will enjoy killing. But that, perhaps, can wait until another time also. Perhaps tomorrow, _si_?” 

“Don’t hold your breath, Alejandro,” Amanda counters as the Spaniard moves past her. As soon as he is out of sight, Amanda rushes up to Laura, who by now has her weapon back in hand. 

“Well, Laura,” queries Amanda, “How did you cross paths with him?” 

Nick has the distinct feeling she’s not only referring to de los Reyes. 

* * *

_Okay,_ Laura concludes silently, _they’re not exactly ready to rip each other’s heads off with their bare hands, but they’re pretty close._

At least, that’s the impression she’s getting from Wolfe. Before going upstairs - to change his clothes, he says - Laura catches him shooting Amanda a glare filled with enough venom to kill Amanda on the spot. 

Amanda shows Laura and Father Liam to a nearby table, but doesn’t join them when they sit down. She starts pacing nervously, her eyes furtively glancing at the door through which Nick disappeared. She hopes her expression is one Laura and Father Liam cannot read. She swallows hard and turns to look at them. 

“So, Laura,” she inquires, “what’s going on?” 

“I met up with De los Reyes during Mardi Gras one year,” Laura replies. “He didn’t exactly care for the way I defeated him but left his head intact.” 

Amanda sighs wearily. “That’s not who I was talking about.” 

“Oh, you meant Nick. He came along a few weeks after de los Reyes. He and another detective were the ones who interrogated me when Marie was killed.” Laura pauses. “How did you and de los Reyes meet?” . . . 

© 2003   
Please send comments to the author! 

* * *


	2. A Time to Be Born: Part 2

A Time to Be Born Pt. 2 by Gail B.

_A Time to Be Born_   
Part 2 

By Gail B. 

**DISCLAIMER:** As with Part 1, the characters of Amanda, Nick Wolfe, and Father Liam Riley all belong to Davis/Panzer. I also borrowed a couple lines of dialogue from the episode “Inferno”. The rest - Laura Kessler, Alejandro de los Reyes, and the plot - are mine. This part of the story is also rated PG-13, for language and Immortal-based violence. 

* * *

_England, 1534_

Amanda crept into the tiny church, black bag in hand. It held all that she could get away with before King Henry’s so-called “soldiers” woke up. She’d been trailing the four men ever since they made off with the bounty they lifted from that monastery in Upton. She knew that one of them made a habit of falling asleep within ten minutes of starting his watch, and chose to take advantage of that fact the third night. Too many bandits were looting houses of worship in the name of the king, and she knew the monastery could ill afford the loss of its relics. 

She suspected that she would not be able to make it back to the abbey before the thieves found out what she’d done, so she planned on leaving the bag inside the first church she came across, along with a hastily scrawled note asking the attending priest to see that the items were returned to their home. Amanda smiled, if a bit ruefully. Stealing for a good cause. She wondered what Rebecca would say about that, and made a mental note to mention it to her former teacher the next time they met. 

Amanda set the bag on the altar and had just turned around when it hit her. She muttered a curse. The last thing she needed was a fight to the death, for surely that would happen as soon as she and the other Immortal stepped off holy ground. Amanda schooled her expression to show anything but the alarm she felt and pivoted to meet her fate. 

The man she saw standing there seemed just as surprised to see her as she was him. Amanda gave him a thorough once-over, taking in everything from his dark hair and skin tone to his priestly robes. He had no weapon with him. Thank God. 

He stared openly at her, as well. Amanda could tell by the way his eyes widened when they well on her black peasant shirt and trousers that he was more shocked by her attire than her Immortality. _Didn’t he know . . .?_

“Please, Father,” Amanda heard herself beg. “I have only come to return these items,” she indicated the bag, “that were taken by ruthless thieves.” She hoped he believed her. 

He seemed to consider that for a long moment. “Then perhaps we need to speak, my child.” 

Without waiting for the priest to instruct her to do so, Amanda took a seat in the nearest pew. He moved to stand in front of her. “Now, _señorita_ . . . ?” 

“Amanda,” she supplied. “I am called Amanda.” 

He nodded briefly. “ _Señorita_ Amanda, I am Padre Alejandro de los Reyes. As you should be aware, it is a mortal sin to steal from God’s Holy Church . . .” 

“But I didn’t steal these things from the Church,” she countered. “There are men, not half an hour’s ride from here, who forcibly took them from a monastery three days away. I only wish to bring them back.” _This man isn’t even aware of what he’ll become!_ a voice in Amanda’s head warned her. 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“Because I speak the truth.” _What will happen to him when he dies for the first time?_ “I do not think it is right that the Church should suffer because of one man’s whim.” 

Another nod from the priest. “Yes, it is true that England’s king, in his greed for a male heir, has overthrown the rightful queen in favor of a whore. It is also true that many of his soldiers, under the guise of dismantling the Houses of God, have taken for themselves things that belong neither to them nor to the man they have put before God.” He sighed. “However, that does not explain how you came to be in possession of His relics . . .” 

* * *

_Paris, 1999_

Just as Amanda finishes her reverie, Nick comes downstairs, new shirt on and sporting a large, overstuffed duffel. Father Liam can almost see the tension between the two, as if it were a patch of thick fog. 

“Under the circumstances,” Nick says, “I really can’t give you notice that I’m moving out.” His eyes shoot daggers at Amanda. 

Amanda walks up to him. “Nick, please . . .” she begins. 

He cuts her off with a caustic remark. “Don’t worry. I won’t come after you.” 

Amanda’s head recoils as if she’s been slapped. She recovers quickly, though. “And to think that I wanted to leave you one of my swords when I came here.” 

Every word Nick spits out is full of venom. “And here I was thinking you wanted me to have something to remember you by. Now we know better, don’t we?” 

Amanda’s on the verge of tears, though Liam knows she’d never let on in front of her current audience. “Where are you going to go?” she asks worriedly. 

“What do you care?!” Nick shoots back before stomping out the front door. 

Amanda is stunned for a moment, but that’s long enough for Nick to hail a cab and climb inside. She races after him, calling out, “Nick! Nick! Please, Nick!” A few seconds later, she rejoins Laura and Father Liam. “Damn!” she mutters, more to herself than to either of them. “Damn him!” The tears threaten to overcome her, and she runs upstairs, leaving Liam and Laura alone. 

“So,” Laura comments dryly, “I see that I came at the right time.” 

Father Liam sighs deeply. “She meant well, I’m sure.” 

“She usually does,” Laura counters with a sigh of her own. “However, that doesn’t change anything now. The question is, what do we do about it?” 

“We?” 

“We. I can’t sit back and do nothing.” 

“I know, but I think that perhaps I should be the one to speak to her this time.” 

Laura agrees, but not the way Liam hopes. “Fine. You do that, and I’ll track down Nick. He and I need to have a chat.” She heads for the door, but Father Liam’s next words stop her. “Laura, he’s very angry right now.” 

Laura’s level gaze meets his own. “About as angry as I was when I was new to the Game?” With that, she’s gone, and Liam is left staring at the darkening sky. 

* * *

Laura takes a cab to a small hotel near the airport. She makes her way up to the third floor and heads straight for Room 341. She takes a deep breath and knocks. Not that she needs to. She knows Nick is in. 

She waits about half a minute and raises her hand to knock again when he finally opens the door. Her eyes take in the towel wrapped around his waist, his wet hair, and his what-the-hell-do-you-want-now look. 

“Mind if I come in?” she chirps nonchalantly. 

Nick can tell that she has no intention of leaving, so he ushers her in. Closing the door behind her, he asks, “How’d you find me?” 

Laura gives him her best Amanda voice. “It wasn’t hard. You really need to show more imagination when you try to run away. A hotel near the airport. Really.” 

He heads back into the bathroom. As he’s putting on his clothes, he orders her, “Get whatever’s on your chest off, Laura, and leave. I’m waiting for a call from the airport.” 

“Waiting for the next available flight?” He hears both her slight astonishment and mild rebuke. “You _are_ running away.” 

He exits the bathroom and sees that Laura has taken a seat in the hotel room’s one chair. “Not that it’s any of your business,” he tells her, “but yes. I have some things to sort out.” 

“While de los Reyes is still out there.” 

“Don’t worry,” he remarks contemptuously. “Amanda can take care of herself.” 

“You’re actually pretty lucky, Nick. Too many Immortals suffer their first death alone, and they’re left wandering around, trying to figure out what happened to them.” 

“Is that what happened to you?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Let’s not discuss my past right now. I’d rather talk about you.” 

* * *

“Liam, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Father Liam chooses to ignore Amanda’s protest. “Knowing what it might do to him, you shot him. What were you thinking?” 

Amanda refuses to turn around and face him. She keeps her gaze focused on the scene outside her bedroom window. Not that she’s actually seeing anything that’s going on in the streets below. 

“He would’ve died, Liam. Forever. Peyton’s poison would’ve destroyed him.” 

“And what you’ve done won’t?” Amanda doesn’t answer. “It’s not for us to decide who dies only one time and who becomes Immortal. You’ve forced something upon Nick that he may not be able to handle.” 

Amanda’s shoulders sag. “You think I wanted to do shoot him? You think I had a choice?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Then why didn’t I kill him before now?” 

Father Liam says gently, “Because you care.” 

“Because I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, just like with Alejandro . . .” 

* * *

_England, 1534_

Amanda could see the light from the flaming torches through the church doors’ thinly covered windows, and she could hear the angry voices of the bandits outside. The sleeping watchman must have woken up shortly after she left, discovered the relics missing, and alerted his cohorts. They must be smarter than she thought, to have found her so quickly. 

“Do you believe me now?” she demanded of the padre. 

Alejandro’s brown eyes met hers. “I do not make it a habit to disbelieve anyone, my child. But, I fear, we have a more serious problem facing us.” 

Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No, Padre, _we_ do not have a serious problem. _I_ have a serious problem. The men out there do not need to know that you have found me, or their ill-gotten gain.” 

“Perhaps if I spoke to them . . .” 

Amanda gripped his upper arm. “Padre, you do not understand. These men will see the bag on the altar. They’ll blame you for stealing from them.” 

He was unmoved. “Put the bag under the alter, then, and hide between the pews until I can convince them to leave. Afterwards, we’ll see that the relics are returned to their rightful place.” 

He effortlessly shrugged Amanda’s hand off his arm and marched toward the doors. Amanda didn’t even have time to shout for him to stop, for at that same moment, the doors flew open, and the bandits rushed in, weapons at the ready. 

“There they are!” yelled one of the men. “Let’s hang ‘em!” 

“No, no,” argued one of the other men. “We have to take them in for questioning. No doubt they wish to make off with the king’s property.” 

Amanda felt her face flush in anger. “As if Henry would be seeing any of what _you’ve_ taken tonight!” she fires back. 

The watchman spoke up. “The wench is right. If she and the priest are questioned, who knows what they’ll say about us!” 

The apparent leader seemed to consider that for a minute or two. “You have a point, Willie. We can’t allow them to be interrogated. We will take care of them ourselves.” 

He raised the knife in his hand, and advanced toward Amanda. She could only stare mutely as he came closer and closer . . . 

Everything started happening all at once. Padre Alejandro jumped in between Amanda and the leader, and before she realized it, an eerie redness was spreading all over the front of the priest’s cassock. The bandit then focused his attention back on her. Without warning, Amanda’s sword found its way into her hand. However, she never had the opportunity to use it. His knife flew from his hand and buried itself in her chest. She dropped to the ground, lifeless. 

Amanda didn’t know how long it was before she came to. Yet one alarming realization hit her as soon as she awoke. She was alone. The bandits and Padre Alejandro were gone. 

* * *

_Paris, 1999_

Father Liam walks up to Amanda and lays a hand on her shoulder. “Amanda,” he says, “You cannot blame yourself for what happened to Alejandro. He chose, of his own free will, to take the knife you say was meant for you.” 

Amanda moves away from the window and sits on the edge of her bed. “A choice which I took away from Nick.” Father Liam pulls a chair over and sits facing her, but doesn’t say anything. “Liam,” she asks in a voice almost too quiet to be heard, “what have I done?” 

The ringing of Amanda’s bedside phone quells any answer the priest might have. She reaches over and picks up the handset, listening to the voice on the other end. Liam holds his breath as she speaks to the person on the other end of the line. “It doesn’t have to be like this . . . I’m begging you . . . very well, I’ll be there.” She places the handset back on the receiver. “That was de los Reyes. He says he’ll meet me behind the Sanctuary in an hour.” 

* * *

“I notice you still carry a gun.” 

Nick is taken aback. “What are you getting at?” 

“I saw it when you showed me where Amanda shot you. I assume you started carrying it when you became a cop.” 

Nick rolls his eyes in annoyance. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“So you switch weapons now. That’s all.” 

“That’s different,” he argues. “I chose to enter the force. I didn’t choose to become an Immortal.” 

“Is that what has you pissed off, that you couldn’t choose?” Laura jumps to her feet and crosses the room. “Or is it that since you’re an Immortal now, you’re not above Us anymore?!” She gets in his face, her eyes firing anger-filled sparks right at him. “The truth of it is, Nick, is that Immortal or not, you’re no better than anyone else. It’s about time you got used to that concept.” A soft chiming cuts into Laura’s tirade, and she pulls a cell phone out of the front right pocket of her coat. She flips the phone open. “Laura Kessler speaking . . . sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you . . . yeah . . . mm-hmm . . . okay. We’ll be there.” Turning the phone off and stuffing it back in her pocket, she turns her attention back to Nick. “That was Father Liam. We’d better get going.” 

* * *

Amanda faces de los Reyes squarely, sword firmly in hand. “You don’t want to do this,” she tries to convince him. 

“Just like you didn’t want to get me involved in the theft of those relics?” he counters. 

She tries again. “Please, Alejandro . . .” 

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies!” he shouts at her. 

“Of course you don’t,” Amanda returns sarcastically, “but what are you going to do when I’m dead? You’ll still be Immortal.” 

De los Reyes waves his blade menacingly before him. “Perhaps I’ll go after the yellow-haired bitch. She and I still have a score to settle. Or maybe I’ll fight the new one. He seems to have a soft spot for you, or he’d not be here now.” 

Nick, Laura, and Father Liam watch the impending fight from a safe distance. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks Laura. “It’s not like I’ve never seen two Immortals go at it before.” 

Answers Father Liam, “Rather than learn to deal with his Immortality, de los Reyes chose to vent his rage on the one person he felt was responsible for taking everything he valued away from him.” 

De los Reyes wastes no time in lunging toward Amanda and delivering a thrust at her midsection. “I see you can handle yourself well enough,” she quips as she dodges his blade. 

“Is that what had you concerned all those years?” de los Reyes retorts.. Again, he thrusts at her, only this time is stopped when she blocks him. Their blades clash several more times, the clanging echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. 

Nick cannot tear his eyes away from the battle, even though Laura is still talking. “October 24, 1995,” she says. “That’s when it happened to me. Not long afterwards, I took my first head, and for the next year and a half, I ran around, hating myself and everyone else because of the monster I’d become. It was only when I met Marie that I began to realize my life didn’t end with my Immortality. I only wish that I could’ve gotten there in time to save her before those bastards murdered her.” 

Amanda takes a vicious swipe at de los Reyes’ torso, and he deftly jumps aside, causing her to nearly lose her footing. “Oh, I found someone all right, someone who taught me to channel all my anger and all my hate into one outlet. You.” 

With that, he renders a series of lunges and swings designed to keep Amanda off balance. Eventually, his blade bears down menacingly on her. Amanda tries desperately to use her sword as leverage to push his away. 

In response to Amanda’s attempts to put distance between them, de los Reyes forces the sharp edge of his blade even closer to Amanda’s neck. His move proves to be a costly mistake as it gives Amanda enough leeway to duck and roll to the side, coming to her feet with the grace of an Olympic gymnast. “Whoever you fight next, Alejandro, you’ll still have to face yourself,” she says smoothly. 

Another series of swings, this time from Amanda, and soon de los Reyes is at a loss to defend himself. His sword goes flying off into the night, and he hears it clatter to the ground behind him. He sinks to his knees. “I guess I won’t have to face myself now,” he proclaims, as if challenging her. 

Amanda’s reply: “I guess not.” She takes one final swing, and de los Reyes’ head rolls next to his sword. 

In an instant, his Quickening overtakes her, sending a million painful jolts of electricity coursing through her body. Her sword falls from her hand, and her arms are flung skyward, as if of their own volition. More jolts send her to her knees, and she cries out in agony. Then, all is suddenly quiet. The flashing pain searing through her body, the screams torn from some place deep inside her, are gone. 

* * *

Laura, Nick, and Father Liam are standing at the bar inside the Sanctuary, and Amanda brings out a bottle of champagne. She sets the bottle down and pulls champagne glasses from the shelves. Liam notes the change in her demeanor. None of the devil-may-care attitude she usually portrays. He hopes the change is not solely due to her taking de los Reyes’ Quickening. 

He watches as Amanda opens the bottle and begins pouring. Laura declines the glass Amanda offers to her, explaining that she doesn’t drink. 

“Not even for a special occasion, Laura?” Liam notes how grave Amanda’s eyes are as she asks that. 

“Not even. I have to get going anyway. This jet lag has me beat.” 

Laura steps away from the bar, but doesn’t get any farther. “Your timing is incredible, Laura, if you only flew in today,” Amanda observes pointedly. 

“I’m on spring break,” is Laura’s evasive reply. 

Amanda eyes her carefully. “Joe sent you, didn’t he?” 

An unabashed grin splits across Laura’s features. “I asked him to keep an eye on Nick two years ago, and to call me should anything happen.” 

Amanda walks over to her and gives her a hug. “Thanks, Laura. I owe you.” 

Laura’s still smiling when they break apart, although her smile is more subdued. “No you don’t. You’ve done more than enough for me already.” 

“I have to be on my way, too,” Father Liam announces as he joins Laura and Amanda. “I’ll be up late enough as it is, preparing for tomorrow’s Mass.” 

Amanda places a quick kiss on each of the priest’s cheeks. “Goodbye, then, Liam.” 

“God be with you, too, Amanda.” Liam says in return. He and Laura are nearly at the front door when he stops and turns toward the only silent person in the room. “Nick,” he advises, “don’t forget the question I asked you once.” 

With that, he and Laura are out the door, Liam teasing Laura about doing penance for her spring break lie. Amanda stares after them, lost in thought. 

She jumps when Nick’s voice breaks in. “Was Laura referring to Joe Dawson? And what happened between you two years ago?” 

She turns to face him. He’s leaning back against the bar now, rather than propping his elbows on it. “Yes, she was, and two years ago is a long story.” She draws an uncertain breath. “What was Liam talking about?” 

Nick straightens up. “He asked me what I would do with my time if I learned I was gonna live forever.” 

“What did you tell him?” she ventures uncertainly. 

“I said that I would try and perfect myself, become a better me.” 

She steps forward, but hesitates to approach him. “I can help you with that. If you want.” 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks her. 

“Maybe.” 

“Or maybe not.” 

Amanda can’t believe what she’s hearing. She swallows convulsively. “Nick, I’m sorry I shot you. It . . . it wasn’t my right to choose your fate for you.” 

Nick’s face is only inches from her own, and Amanda squirms under his searching gaze. She feels her heart slamming in her chest. Finally, after what seems an eternity, he responds. “Amanda, if I stay, you have to promise to let me decide for myself what’s going to happen to me and when. And no more hiding things from me. Deal?” 

Amanda smiles brightly and holds out her hand. “Deal.” 

They shake hands. She’s not sure, but Amanda thinks Nick is reluctant to let go. 

© 2003   
Please send comments to the author! 

* * *


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